


Memories

by JenniferJF



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:23:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferJF/pseuds/JenniferJF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of short head space pieces set during The Force Awakens.  Probably all going to end up a bit angsty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one to personally address what I feel is the greatest unanswered question of The Force Awakens: How does Leia manage to get out of bed in the morning?

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I chuckle ironically to myself. (Is there any other way? I feel there must be. That there was once, if I could only remember.)

It's funny, though, because that's not true. Even from here I know I'll get though this. I'm even fully aware of exactly how I'll get through this. Which is what's funny. Or at least ironic. Because it turns out grief is a skill like any other. If you practice long and hard enough, you can get very good at it. And I am very, very good at it.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

One breath at a time. One minute at a time. One day at a time. That's how I'll get through. It's always worked before. And I've had my whole life to practice. Literally. 

A sudden flood of memories threatens my carefully laid defenses. The face of a mother I can't possibly remember, cheeks stained with tears as she looks up at me, whispering my name even as she leaves me behind. A planet of billions, disappearing in a fiery burst as I'm forced to watch. A child turning away before I've had a chance to get to know who he really is, lost to me now possibly forever. And now...

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

A part of me shys away even as another whispers of my blame, pulling me deeper towards despair. Because if I hadn't been, or if I hadn't fought, or sent, or insisted.... I close my eyes, struggling to silence the voice. If I give into the darkness for just one minute the fight is lost. It takes an effort, more than it should, but then other images appear. Memories deliberately pulled forth in defiance of the dark. 

The curve of my mother's cheek soft in the bedside light as she sits beside me reading. The love in her smile warming me even now as she pauses to look up at me from her book and across the years. My father towering above me, his face dappled in the light filtering through the trees around us as he bends to lift me up, my laughter joining his as he swings me through the air. Because Luke was, of course, wrong about who my mother and my father really were. 

Luke wasn't wrong about Han, though. I can see Luke now, standing before me in the bright sunlight of my wedding day, smiling as he tells me he knows we'll make each other happy. And we did, most of the time. More often than either of us would probably have expected. Because even arguments can be good: the meeting of minds, the play of words. And when even victory or defeat have the same reward... I skip past those memories, still too raw, to a safer one. A baby sleeps peacefully in my arms, moonlight and shadows dancing across his features as we rock together in the quiet of the night. Still safe from the dark outside.

Then comes the last memory. The most recent of all, of another child held in my arms. Well, hardly a child anymore, but still there, warm and alive even if her childhood is gone. Lost and then found, against all hope. Only I know that's not true, not really. Because that's the one thing I've learned if anything. There's always hope. Always. For as surely as there will be storms, every storm has its end. Eventually, the skies clear and the sun shines again. That's how you get through grief, not by worrying about the rain but by remembering the sunlight.

I sigh. Even understanding doesn't make the struggle any easier while suffering through the storm.

I hear a familiar shuffling and turn to find C3PO standing behind me. "General Organa?"

Is it the rain increasing or the winds blowing harder? I brace myself for the onslaught.

"It's R2D2. He's awake." 

Or, just maybe, if the Force is truly with me, it's the sunlight finally bursting through the clouds.


	2. Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another brief head space piece set during The Force Awakens. Han Solo POV.

A/N: Based on a theory, of course. And I apologize for any error vs. the actual dialogue as I'm going off the novelization and memory. And thanks, as always, to AstraPerAspera for the beta and idea sharing.

\--------------

Most of the time, it wasn't a problem. He went on as though nothing had happened, still the same reckless and carefree quick talker he'd always been. But in the dark and quiet of his bunk, in the minutes before waking and sleeping, he'd remember... 

The warm weight of the child in his lap as he'd worked the Falcon controls, only occasionally having to swat small hands away as they reached out to try and press buttons and pull levers themselves. His quick, “You're too little, sweetheart,” was usually – but not always – sufficient to stop them. 

Squeals of delight filling his ears as he'd bank the ship quickly (too quickly, as the voice at his shoulder would usually remind him), then looking down into eyes gleaming with a sheer joy at the speed that matched his own. Hell, who didn't love an admiring audience?

Tiny shoes dangled over the deck edge above him as he tangled himself in the Falcon's guts, making yet another necessary repair. He might have had to reach just a little further to grab each tool held out for him, but he only had to describe each one once; even as a toddler the kid was a natural.

Yeah, it was usually only in the dark, as he was drifting away, that he let the memories overtake him. Memories which were all he'd ever have now. Ben he missed too, of course. But Ben was... complicated, his memories far more painful. But his daughter... Even his last memory of her, smiling up at him as she held her uncle's hand, proud to finally be old enough to join her big brother in training, believing her parents would be back to visit soon... Even that was too precious to lose. 

He closed his eyes, clearing the memories. Now wasn't the time.

He cast another sidelong glance at the woman standing next to him, this young woman who seemed to have dropped out of the sky and whose skills and excitement pulled up memories of his own lost daughter and what might have been. Just when he'd almost forgotten how good it felt to fly with someone whose enthusiasm matched his own, or who could give back as good as she got, firing words back at him as quickly as he could deliver. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, he'd missed that, too.

She smiled at him, the expression lighting her face, and he couldn't quite prevent one corner of his mouth from twitching upwards in response as he felt something break loose inside him. He suppressed it as soon as he felt it – he was too good a sabaac player to show his hand that quickly – but damn it felt good to smile again.

In that instant, he made up his mind.

“Hey, Rey... I've been thinking about taking on some more crew....”


End file.
